


The Rhythm of the Rain

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What else can you do when it rains?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rhythm of the Rain

It started raining yesterday morning and now it is pouring down fit to rival Noah. The village is a morass of mud and muck. Anyone who can is huddled in their huts, warming themselves by the fire, drinking mead. The sentries, of course, have no choice but to shiver in their cloaks. However I don't expect them to tremble with the cold while I laze around, indolent – tomorrow, whatever the weather, Kai and I will ride the boundaries of the river valley. It is simply today, this afternoon, that I am being self-indulgent.............

Four days ago Llud left for the annual livestock market in Mark's territory, taking several of our mares and breeding cows to sell, hoping to bring home a likely bull or two – and hoping also to instil in Kai's brood what he failed so spectacularly to teach me and - to a lesser degree – my big brother. They have all gone with their grandfather – even Lenni and the new baby, since there are always stalls at the market where peddlers trade herbs and oils. Olwen as well, to her – and our father’s - great delight.

I hope that Llud comes back to our village more satisfied with the fruits of his labour than he ever was in the past. Kai can at least tell a sheep from a goat from a cow and make some sort of seemingly intelligent remarks about their flanks and milk wells. I, on the other hand, remain completely ignorant.

A day later Rowena and our three children rode off to Yorath's kingdom for her cousin's wedding. I could hear Kaitlin already arguing with her mother before they rounded the bend in the river. She'd better be cautious – my feisty eight-year-old raven-haired daughter. Yorath will not be such a shield between her and Rowena as Llud habitually is. If she is too contrary with her mother, she may find it uncomfortable to sit on her horse for the journey home. Rowena, in a fury, has a hard hand – I know, since I've had it across my cheek more than once........

Actually Rowena’s tongue can be just as wounding as her hand. The last time I felt its acerbic edge – ah yes, less than a week ago - I went whining and griping to Kai. He listened, grinning all the while. When I had finished my grievances, my brother shook his flaxen head wonderingly, brown eyes dancing. “Arthur, if she had been a milksop princess, you wouldn’t have even stayed in Hecla’s encampment long enough to find my songbirds.” And, as so often before, Kai was absolutely right………So, instead of goading Rowena again, I gave her the black onyx necklace I had been saving for Yuletide - and ended with a wife weeping with something that is the opposite to rage and a peaceful longhouse. A clever, intuitive man, my big brother.

Not surprisingly perhaps, this question of perceived transgressions and whether Kaitlin will arrive home chastened, sets me thinking about when we were children and customarily leathered by Llud for our misdeeds. For a man who had had to re-master so many skills with his left hand, Llud was unerringly accurate when armed with a strap. I never knew which was worse – watching our father stripe Kai, knowing I was next, or witnessing it when my rump already stung from Llud's zeal, or observing Kai's punishment when I had been deemed blameless and absolved. Finally I concluded that it was all the same really – it was seeing Kai biting back the tears, at any time, that made my own eyes fill......

Rolling over in my bed, I pull the sheepskins closer for warmth. It must be the unnatural quiet making me so introspective. The longhouse is hushed and empty – supplied with a good ration of roast boar and bread and honeyed mead, an oasis of bliss in a sea of mire and slush, silent save for the rhythm of the rain.

In a corner of the sleeping chamber, the rain has found a hole in the maslin. It drips, steadily, soothingly into a wooden basin, endeavouring to render me drowsy with its unceasing splashing. When the skies above clear, one of us will need to climb on the roof and mend the thatching and the daub. Luckily the skies to the north and the south appear blue and placid – the livestock market and the marriage feast seem set fair then. It is only here in the west that the deluge buckets down.

To explain my lazing this afternoon, I have told the door sentry that I am burning with a fever – and it is true that I am burning but not with sickness……. My thoughts are feverish enough to warrant the remark though. I settle more comfortably among the fleeces, struck by another impassioned idea. It is fully a decade and one half again since I lay on the leafy ground, eyes tight shut, the throb of the departing horsemen echoing behind me – and suddenly felt Kai’s warm mouth, slowly and gently tasting mine, his warm hands tenderly cupping my face, arousing a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, a deafening hammering in my heart………

So, two full spans of ten years since I fell – no, fell is far too paltry a word – spiralled, plunged, was engulfed and prostrated, in love with a Saxon smile. With a smile that lights up any room and fills the darkest dwellings with a dazzling glow radiating from him. A smile that leaves me breathless, speechless, hands shaking, heart thrashing……….

It is a miracle, an epiphany, each time my eyes feast on him – now I turn my head and my gaze is so nourished. Blonde, wondrous, angelic in sleep, Kai lies stretched out beside me, naked beneath the sheepskins, breathing serenely. Slowly I move my knee, mindful not to disturb him – and my foot brushes lightly against his cock. But not flaccid as I might have expected – it is rock-hard, taut, robust……….

Immediately I am fraught with desire, wild with craving again. My arse is still sleek with oil, lustrous with seed from earlier. Thoughtfully I chew on my lip. Perhaps……..

Painstakingly I ease down the bed until my cleft can feel the tip of Kai’s rigid prick. Then, carefully, quietly, edge backwards. It slides into my opening as familiarly as a mole avoiding the worst of the winter cold by borrowing into its home tunnel.

The recognition is exquisite, transcendent, rare……Inexorably I begin to shudder, stifling my whimpering, franticly grasping my own hardness, fiercely stroking from the top to the base. Now I am truly feverish with ardour, flooded by waves of incandescence…….

A warm mouth sweeps across my tangled hair, warm breath sighs against my ear, a warm hand clasps mine that is clenched around my arrant cock. “I’ll take care of that if you like little brother.” Kai grins devilishly. “And yes, I haven’t really been asleep for quite a while.” I crush his lips against mine, melting utterly into him. Kai’s smile softens. “God, you’re beautiful and how I love you” he whispers - and then all semblance of control is completely lost…….

I fall in a frenzied heap to my knees – Kai’s deft fingers thrum my prick as mellifluously as he strums the bard’s instrument at Yuletide, kneading my balls, caressing my shaft – I ensnare his thrusting cock in my ravenous cleft, clenching my thighs - rocking and tumbling into a welter of delirium and enthrallment………and my pearly fluid drenches Kai’s palm as his balmy libation joyfully douses my arse………..

Afterward Kai steals into the main room for food and drink, wrapped in a blanket. Famished, we consume the boar and mead, sitting cross-legged like children, grinning at each other in gleeful conspiracy. Then I fall asleep, absolutely contented and replete, wrapped in my big brother’s arms…….

I awaken at dawn, my lips still pressed to the tender hollow at the base of Kai’s throat – the rain still steadily falling. Silently I groan. Today we must ride the boundaries of the river valley – come cloudbursts, sleet or shine. We break our fast, smiling in remembrance, sighing in contemplation of the muddy day ahead. I hand Kai his piebald cloak and slip on my heavy cape.

The idyll is over. Beside the door I say “I love you, Kai my heart” and kiss him on the mouth, as hard as you can when you are both laughing simply because you are alive and together and happy and in love……….

Finally we venture outside. The door sentry, Daryn, gives me a concerned look. “Has your fever passed Arthur? The rain won’t help.” I glance at Kai, grinning. “I am feeling much better – although this particular fever will never abate. Thank God.” And I duck out into the downpour, head bent so I cannot see Daryn’s confused face and he cannot hear me chuckle……..

As Kai walks our horses out of the stables, another marvel occurs. The rain ceases and the village glistens in watery sunshine. My big brother tilts his face up to its tentative warmth and smiles across at me - the smile that took possession of my heart during my sixteenth summer. Then suddenly just beyond the palisade, above the woods, a rainbow appears - and my Kai is bathed in a brilliant arch of russet and violet, of flame and azure, of sapphire and gold……………


End file.
